


Cosa Nostra

by keraunoscopia



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Death Threats, Established Relationship, Extended Families, Family, Italian Mafia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-17
Updated: 2017-11-17
Packaged: 2019-02-03 12:50:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12748665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keraunoscopia/pseuds/keraunoscopia
Summary: Sonny grew up with three sisters who teased him, two parents who loved him, a grandmother who taught him how to cook, cousins who would become priests, and aunts and uncles who would always look out for him. But he also grew up with Cosa Nostra. And as much as he would have preferred to deny that, he needs them.





	Cosa Nostra

**Author's Note:**

> So I had a revelation/remembrance that there was a member of the Bonnano family nicknamed Sonny Black, who's given name was Dominick. Plus just generally Sonny's an Italian from Staten Island, he has to have some sort of mafia tie.

“Again, Rafael, again?” Sonny voice was raised as loud as it ever got inside, and his eyes flashed like razor blades. Rafael might have been intimidated if he didn’t know the detective, might have cowered away under his discerning gaze if he didn’t know that it wasn’t anger bubbling, but fear. 

Fear for him, fear for his safety, fear that something was going to happen to him, because some how, after nearly two years since Heredio had threatened him on the court house steps, he had found himself back in the same scenario. Death threats weren’t that uncommon. He was a prosecutor, an effective one, death threats were part and parcel of the job. 

But when hang ups and angry letters turned into cornering him in a parking garage at three in the morning, the death threats felt a little bit more imminent, and he had figured it was probably time to address the issue with the detectives he worked with on a daily basis again, with the detective he shared a home, and a bed with every night. 

“Sonny I told you before, death threats are part of the job, there’s no sense in assigning me a protective detail every time a pissed off family member or friend sends me a threatening letter, we’d run the NYPD’s budget dry in two months.” He rolled his eyes and settled back into the chair, trying to play it off, trying to seem like the incident in the garage hadn’t rattled him. Death threats were part of the job when they were at arms length, but that sort of danger wasn’t his profession, he hadn’t chosen to pursue a career path that would require he put himself in the line of fire like Sonny had. 

“Don’t give me that, Rafael, you could have told me at least,” Sonny was perched on the edge of his desk, and the whole scene seemed vaguely familiar, the detective imposing on his personal space, vaguely threatening, but the context between them was vastly different than it had been two years ago. 

“I didn’t want to worry you. The last thing you need is to be distracted and worried about me while you’re out there, you know, actually putting your life in danger,” he snapped, tone a little more abrasive than he had really intended. Rafael knew it was a cheap shot, pointing out that Sonny was the one who needed to be worried about, that every day when he left their home, Rafael had to worry if it was going to be the day he never returned. 

Sonny growled, leaning forward, letting his hand fall to Rafael’s shoulder, gripping a little more firmly than Rafael had expected. “What if those guys had followed through, Rafael? They cornered you in a parking garage in the middle of the night. I could have been responding to that call.” He frowned, face softening slightly as the thought crossed his mind, the fear dissolving into something closer to pain. “I can protect you, Rafael,” his voice was firm, resolute. “But I have to know what I need to protect you from.” 

Rafael shook his head. “You can’t always be there, Sonny.” But even as he spoke, he could read the detective’s face, the _Just you watch me._

It was nearly two weeks later when Rafael was sitting at his desk again, opening up the mail Carmen had dropped on his desk earlier in the day, since she had a dentist appointment. He sighed, pulling the tab off of a manila envelope. The hours always went by so much slower without Carmen around. 

Powder white. He lifted up his hands, a coating of fine white dust clinging to his skin. He moved slowly, and deliberately as he reached for his phone, pressing speaker before dialing Sonny’s cell number. 

“Rafi? Why are you calling me from your office phone?” Rafael never did, always made calls from his cellphone, never called Sonny from work unless they were working on a case together. 

“Sonny,” He started slowly, his voice steady, unwavering. “Can you call hazmat? Have them come to my office?”

There was a pause, “are you joking? Because if you are that’s not funny, Rafael,” Sonny replied cautiously. 

“No, not a joke.” 

“Shit really? What’s going on Rafi, are you okay?” 

Rafael nodded before remembering that the person on the end of the line couldn’t see him. “I uh, I was opening mail, there’s powder everywhere, I don’t know what it is, but…” he trailed off, after the incident in the garage, only two weeks ago, he couldn’t be sure. 

“Don’t move, try not to breathe it in, I’m on my way, I’ll call hazmat.” Sonny replied quickly, and Rafael could hear the panic rising in his voice, that cracking sound that always reminded him of just how much younger Sonny was. 

Sonny Carisi was a man of the law, and not just the laws of the country he lived in, but God’s law. He had never had so much as parking ticket, no juvenile offenses to be cleared off his record. The law was more than rules to him, always had been. It was about doing what was right, about doing what was good, what was moral. 

He believed in the law, believed in the justice system, despite all of its short comings, and failures that he had witnessed first hand. Sonny didn’t make excuses, didn’t bend the rules, didn’t let people get away with things because they were family. 

But family, family was complicated for Sonny. He grew up with three sisters who teased him and two parents who loved him, and a grandmother who taught him how to wrap cannoli shells around metal forms so they wouldn’t be too tight to get off, and how to fill tortellini so they wouldn’t burst. He grew up with cousins who would become priests, aunts and uncles who would always look out for him. 

But he also grew up with Cosa Nostra. 

He hadn’t realized it at first, couldn’t really remember the first time he had been distinctly aware of the path his family had followed. Not all of them, not his cousins who had joined the seminary, not his father, a proud union man. But Sonny did remember sitting in his Uncle Vinny’s restaurant when he was twelve, remembered his Uncle telling him and his cousins to go back into the kitchen, remembered the startling pop that rang through the building. 

He didn’t make the connection until years later though, hadn’t realized what it meant other than that he and his cousins got to steal a bottle of wine out of the kitchen before his Uncle had told them he was taking them home. 

Sonny’s graduation from the police academy hadn’t been a well attended family event. They knew him too well to expect that he’d be an asset, knew that Sonny wasn’t someone to rely on for favors, not even for family. 

But still, he saw the cousins at every holiday, play wrestled with his nieces and nephews and sent cards for every birthday. Because even if Sonny wanted no part of Cosa Nostra, they were still an undeniable part of him. 

Family was everything to them, family was loyalty. And even if he hadn’t been there for them, he knew they’d be there for him. 

“Well if it isn’t cousin Sonny,” a voice called loudly, a dark haired man sitting in a corner booth  
of a restaurant Sonny remembered all too well. “You’re not here to raid the place are ya, cugino?” 

“Scal,” Sonny nodded, ignoring the careful stares of men he knew were soldati, soldiers. “You know I’d never sell out family.” If the circumstances had been different, if he were there under different terms, he might have played along just a little more. But this wasn’t a game, he wasn’t there to joke around about the crimes he knew his cousins committed.

His cousin laughed, gesturing to one of the other men in the restaurant. “Joe, bring us some glasses and a bottle of wine. I’m sure you all remember my cousin Sonny.” 

Anthony Sclafani. Scal. Only a year and a half apart in age, they’d grown up two houses down from each other, the closest thing Sonny had to a brother. “I’m not here to catch up, Scal,” Sonny added as he took the seat across the table from the man. 

“Then why are you here?” Scal asked, but Sonny knew he already knew. His stomach twisted, he knew how this sort of thing worked, knew that even for family, there was no give without get. 

“I need your help.” 

Scal leaned back, arms draped casually over the back of the booth. “For family, of course,” he nodded slowly. “How can we help?”

Sonny drew in a deep breath. He had prepared for this conversation, had rehearsed it in his head a million times on his way from the hospital, where Rafael had been given antibiotics and good prognosis even after the confirmation of anthrax. But it was different still, to be there, sitting in front of his cousin, begging to cross the sort of line that Sonny had vowed to never cross, to become the sort of person he swore he would never be. 

“My partner,” he stumbled over the word. He had been out to his family for years, it wasn’t that, just couldn’t quite convey the way his stomach was tied in knots with worry, and fear, and concern. “Someone has a hit out on him. He was threatened a few weeks ago, and someone just sent anthrax in an envelope to him today. He’s okay, but it could have been a lot worse.” He looked up from his hands, still fisted together, “I need you to figure out who’s behind this, and take care of it.”

Scal nodded slowly, seemingly unfazed by the request. He leaned forward, and dropped a hand to Sonny’s shoulder. “Not to worry,” he affirmed. “And I hope we will be able to count on you, should the need ever arise…” 

It wasn’t a question, wasn’t even a hypothetical. Sonny knew enough about his family, knew enough about Cosa Nostra to know that it was a warning, that his cousin was really just saying _You owe us now._

And Sonny knew they would come to collect, knew it was likely that he’d be putting his badge, his career, his future as an attorney on the line to repay his debt. But he figured, as he fell into bed next to Rafael, pressing his lips against freshly showered curls, that it was worth it. Maybe he had sold his soul, bartered away his humanity, his morals, everything he thought would be an absolute in his life, but it meant that Rafael would be safe, and for that, there wasn’t a price he wouldn’t pay.


End file.
